justice and vengeance
by Pierogis
Summary: Hawke has never been one to treat others with benevolence, not when they could stand between him and his goals. Yet, giving Fenris back to his former master is a step over the line, even for him. Anders, much to his own surprise, finds himself disagreeing with this decision. (A rewrite of Fenris' quest 'Alone')
1. Chapter 1

Anders did not quite understand why Hawke asked him to tag along for a meeting with Fenris' sister. What was his role supposed to be, exactly - emotional support for the elf? Not to mention that Merrill was invited as well. He would rather stay at his clinic; he only agreed not to get on Hawke's bad side.

He stood by the door awkwardly as Fenris approached his sister. He glanced around the tavern, tuning out the conversation.

"Oh, wonderful," Hawke said suddenly.

Understanding came to him in a form of a Tevinter magister stepping down the stairs. So Hawke did expect a fight to occur - a heads up could have been nice, really.

"Ah, my little Fenris," the magister said. "Predictable as always."

So _that_ was the man Fenris has been raging about for the past years - Danarius, was it? He sized him up. His robes betrayed his high status, and taking into consideration his heritage, Anders could guess that he was standing in front of a particularly skilled blood mage.

He scowled a bit. He would prefer not to fight him, really. The magister seemed to be a formidable opponent, making any conflict with him an exceptional danger - and for what? For a man that would rather see him imprisoned or made tranquil? He had plenty of better causes to risk his life for, thank you very much.

"If you want him, take him," Hawke crossed his arms as he spoke to the magister.

"What?" Fenris exclaimed.

"It's like you're reading my mind," Anders muttered under his breath, only to be met with a horrified stare from Merrill.

"Tell me you won't do this!" she pleaded to Hawke.

_One enemy of the cause less_, said a thought at the back of Anders' head.

He looked at the elf in question to see his reaction.

Suddenly, he felt very uneasy.

There was something disturbingly familiar about the way his shoulders were hunched, and about how detached from the situation he already seemed. Most of all, there was something familiar in the expression on his face - like he had already given up on fighting.

Anders had his fair share of escape attempts.

_This is wrong_, he replied to the thought without certainty.

The presence at the back of his head reacted instantly. _This is just_, the thought seemed to burn and sizzle. _Would you rather allow him to cause the enslavement of you and your kind?_

_We're selling a man back into slavery_, he pushed it back. _This is not justice. This is simple cruelty._

_He is an enemy, and he needs to be removed_, the voice, now clearly recognizable from his own thoughts, hissed.

_I will not pretend to fight against slavery by dealing with other slavers!_

_Stand back_, the voice demanded.

"Come along, everyone! The boat leaves for Minrathous within the hour!" he heard Danarius say loudly.

Anders then felt the pressing presence in his head dissolve. "I can't believe I'm doing this," he mumbled quietly, and gripped his staff. He took a step to block the exit from the tavern. "We are not making this deal," he said louder, and, to his surprise, sounding certain. "Let the elf go."

"Oh?" Danarius stopped in his steps. "I'm afraid this is not your decision to make. Let us leave peacefully." The man smiled politely, but all that Anders saw was a glint of rage in his eyes. It seemed less like a smile to him, and more like a wolf showing its fangs. It was hard to believe how much this mage reminded him of a templar, and how he did not see it right away.

"Let the elf go," he repeated slowly.

He noticed a glint of white behind Danarius, and quickly averted his eyes. He would rather not remind himself who this was about.

"What's this fuss about?" Hawke sighed. "Given half a chance, he would have done the same to any of-"

Before he had a chance to finish, Hawke was flung into the nearest wall by an invisible force. As soon as he hit the floor, small stones sprouted from underneath the floorboards and created a shell over him, disabling any movement.

Merrill, looking pale, lowered her staff and turned back to Danarius.

The magister looked more inconvenienced than anything. "Don't let us be late," he made a gesture with his hand, and several people located across the tavern reached for their weapons.

Anders had no more time to reconsider - the room turned into a battlefield in a second. He barely managed to duck to avoid a bolt to his face - but did so just in time to notice someone sneaking off to the back of the tavern.

"Merrill?!" he called after her, to no effect - she was already gone.

Casting a barrier around himself, he assessed the situation. It would be a hard enough battle in normal circumstances, but without Hawke and Merrill? The only remaining ally present was-

"Fenris?! A little help here?!" he called, deflecting a sword swung at him. It was of little use - the elf seemed to barely be aware of what was going on around him. His hand hovered over the hilt of his sword as his eyes jumped between the fighters. Other than that, he was frozen in place.

Anders cursed under his breath. He should have thought this through. It was not what he was expecting to die for.

"Well, why not?" Danarius' voice could barely be heard over the noise. "Help out, Fenris! Kill him!"

On Danarius' command, his people paused their attacks, and Anders could stop avoiding and countering them for a moment.

Fenris' eyes locked with Anders'. His expression was strange - he seemed resigned, and afraid.

The elf's hand closed over the hilt.

Anders suddenly felt very uneasy.

Then one of Danarius' swordsmen fell to the floor with a bolt in his back.

The battle resumed as abruptly as it stopped, but its tide changed - Varric was putting enemies down one by one with his crossbow, Isabela appeared out of nowhere, swirling her daggers around, and Merrill put her blood magic to use as soon as she returned with the two others. Not waiting for anything else, Anders joined them, relieved.

It took a while, but Fenris unsheathed his sword as well - and, minding his previous hesitation, Anders had to stop himself from casting a paralyzing spell at the elf. Thankfully, it was not necessary; Fenris begun cutting down the slavers without a hint of whatever it was that he was going through earlier. If anything, he seemed furious - so, back to something next to normal.

Taken by surprise, the slavers were defeated in a matter of moments. Before the last one even hit the ground, shades took their place. Then the dead slavers started rising again, resuming the fight as undead. Anders groaned - damned magisters and their blood magic.

The battle dragged on; a new enemy appeared for each one that fell, literally rising from the floor. They could not get an upper hand over the infinite army, but neither could that army overpower them - for now. Anders resorted to healing everyone's most serious injuries as they continued to appear, only stopping to prevent any enemy from getting near him.

Finally, over another wave of undead, he spotted the magister responsible for all this - and, luckily, he seemed to be distracted by raising the dead. Using this moment, he casted crushing prison at him, and nearly cheered when he realized that it stopped Danarius for a moment. He did not have much time to celebrate, as nearby shades immediately attacked him for this.

As he struck down the last one of them, he turned back to Danarius - just in time to see Fenris driving his fist through the man's neck. He winced at the sight.

The tavern finally got quiet for a moment. Fenris whipped around to the tables.

"Where is she?" he growled, looking at the empty spot where his sister was earlier.

"I think she ran off during the fight…" Merrill replied cautiously.

Fenris stopped for a moment, then stormed outside, pushing Anders out of the way.

"You will come to regret this," drawled a voice from the edge of the room.

Everyone's eyes turned in that direction. They watched in silence as Hawke, freed from the rocks but with a bruise on his forehead, stood up and marched to the door. Silence fell after he slammed them behind him.

"So," said Isabela after a moment, "what just happened here, exactly? Who did we just kill? And why was Hawke… like that? Merrill?"

"Well," Merrill hesitated, still looking rather shaken, "I think it was Fenris' former… uh… owner?"

"Oh," Isabela winced. "Got what he deserved, then."

"We came here to meet Fenris' sister, but it turned out that she came with him…"

"Bitch."

"And then Hawke wanted to strike a deal-"

"A _deal_? What -"

"But Anders stopped it, and I… stopped… Hawke and went to call you!"

"What kind of _deal_, Merrill?"

"Hawke wanted to give him back," Anders explained. "Or sell him back, knowing Hawke."

"Sorry, Hawke wanted _what_?" Varric asked with disbelief.

"He was serious?!"

"And _Blondie_ stopped him?"

Suddenly, Anders started to feel very uncomfortable with three pairs of eyes staring at him. "I have to go," he said quickly and walked out the door before anyone could respond.


	2. Chapter 2

Unsurprisingly, he had not heard from Hawke in the following days. He ruled it best to stay away from the rest of the party as well, at least for some time, and carried on running the clinic as usual.

With the amount of people coming to him each day, he could have nearly forgotten the whole situation, if it wasn't for a patient that knocked on his door one evening.

"Hello? I was told I can find a healer here..?" a quiet voice asked as the door came ajar.

"You're in the right place. Come in," Anders got up from his desk.

The person that came in was a frail-looking, redheaded elf woman, clutching her forearm. There was blood dripping down her arms and soaking into her robes. She seemed to be swaying on her feet - probably due to blood loss, Anders concluded.

"Oh. This needs to be patched up quickly. Come."

He walked up to the woman, and held out his hand. She flinched.

"Is something wrong?" he raised his eyebrow.

She stared at him, visibly afraid. A moment passed. "No," she replied shortly, and accepted his hand.

Her arms had clear animal bite marks on them, as well as some rather serious burns - Anders decided not to ask any questions not to startle her even more. She was clearly in shock - so much that she did not complain about the pain.

He felt like he saw her somewhere earlier. Did she recognise him, perhaps?

_Oh_, he realized at once. Of course she recognised him, though he could not recall her name. She was the one they met at The Hanged Man a few days ago - Fenris' sister.

He was careful not to let her notice that he remembered her, but his thoughts boiled. What was he supposed to do with her? Pretend that he did not know her? She nearly put her own brother back into slavery, and she almost got him killed - that's not something easily forgotten. Still, he couldn't tell if she caused the entire situation, or if she was just a victim. And he wanted explanations.

He wasn't sure how to get them, though. She still seemed to be on edge, ready to bolt out of the door at any moment.

He decided that his questions could wait for a bit. He can heal her, make her trust him a bit - it will be easier to get some answers out of her if she will not assume that he is hostile. So, not saying anything, he examined her arms.

Though he could close the worst of the wounds in just a moment, as he usually did during combat, the injuries covered most of the woman's arms - healing them properly, completely and with as little pain as possible will take time, and both magical and conventional means. With the aid of some healing spells, he started covering them with salves and bandages, mostly to stop her from accidentally worsening her state.

"After I'm done with this, feel free to stay the night in one of the beds for the patients. It's hardly wise to wander around Darktown at this time with the effects of blood loss, and there is plenty of free space here tonight."

She nodded in response. She seemed to slowly be getting calmer now, and much less wary. After all, Anders knew exactly what to do not to startle a patient.

He continued to work in silence, gradually healing the damaged skin. It was mostly automatic for him, and after a while the woman seemed to be getting close to dozing off. He could not tell how much time had passed before he heard a noise outside his door.

He was looking through the drawers for more supplies when the door slammed open with so much force that the entire clinic seemed to shake.

"You," Fenris drawled, walking inside and straight toward the woman.

She yelped and shoot up, backing off towards the wall.

"You sold me! To _him_!" he nearly shouted.

"I had no choice," she replied hoarsely.

"And you!" he turned to Anders. "You were _harboring_ her!"

He raised up his hands defensively. "I'm a healer. She came here for help."

Fenris just shot him a furious glare, then turned back to his sister. His lyrium marks glowed faintly.

"This was my only chance! He would have-" she started explaining.

"I don't care for your reasons," Fenris growled, walking towards her.

"No!" she shouted in panic, and raised her arms.

A ball of fire appeared between the two elves, knocking both of them back, and blinding Anders, who observed the situation.

He gasped quietly as the flames disappeared. "You're a mage!"

"Of course you are," Fenris drawled, getting up.

She scowled with pain, looking at her arms, now burned again. "I would have been his apprentice," she said quietly. "I could finally get out."

"You were a free woman. You could have just left," Fenris snapped back.

"And you think this was any easier?! Do you have any idea what I had to do to just survive?!"

"That's enough-"

"You said you didn't ask for these markings. But you did. You competed for them and won! You freed mother and I, and left! It was all _your_ choice!"

"What?" he stopped.

"I only did what I had to to live," she stood up and straightened her back.

There was a moment of silence. "Then you will die for this," Fenris replied gravely.

"_No,_" Anders heard his own voice say, and realized that he wasn't the one speaking - in fact, he was unable to say anything. Everything began to feel fuzzy.

Both elves turned to him.

"_You will do her no harm_," Justice continued.

"This is none of your concern, demon," Fenris retorted.

"I am no demon," Justice rumbled, "and I will not allow this!"

As Justice reached for the staff, Anders' conscience slipped away.

He woke up with his hand swinging the staff forward, the blade at its end aimed-

"Stop!"

The staff fell on the floor as he took back the control over his body and stumbled forward.

Unsurprisingly, Fenris was pointing his sword at him, but he stopped as well. The elf had some blood dripping down his shoulder; seeing that, Anders realized that he could feel something warm and painful on his own side and brow, as well. A cabinet at the back was laying on the ground, surrounded by shattered bottles, and the other elf was nowhere to be seen.

"What happened?" He realized he must have blacked out for more than a second. He pressed his hand to his temples to soothe the throbbing headache.

"What, you don't remember?" Fenris furrowed his brow and lowered the sword a bit.

Anders scowled. "It would seem so." He ran his hand over his wounds to close them. His headache worsened immediately - it was really too much for one evening. He gestured vaguely at Fenris' arm. "Want me to patch it up?"

He immediately realized that it was probably a stupid question - Fenris avoided any magical healing that was not necessary, especially for him.

The elf hesitated for a moment, and, much to Anders' surprise, nodded.

It took Anders a while to process the situation and get to work instead of staring.

Barely hiding his discomfort, he walked over to the remaining cabinet and opened a drawer. From the corner of his eye he saw Fenris sheathing his sword, walking over to the table next to it and seating himself on it. Both avoided looking in the other's direction.

"Back at the Hanged Man," Fenris started suddenly, "was it you? Or _him_?"

_So that's why he agreed to stay_, Anders realized. "_He_ was actually on Hawke's side," he explained shortly.

"Of course he was," Fenris turned away.

"His choices aren't always… _just_. He doesn't think in a way a person does, you know. And neither does Hawke, apparently," Anders sighed.

Fenris looked at him with a strange expression on his face.

He took out a small bottle from the drawer. "Right, let's get this over with," he said, examining Fenris' arm closely. Aside from the wound and burn marks, he noticed some swelling on the forearm. "Your arm seems to be broken."

"I am aware."

"Just when did it manage to do it?"

The elf gestured at the broken cabinet.

Anders sighed. "I'll deal with the cut first."

He poured some of the liquid from the bottle onto it, then closed his eyes. He summoned the healing magic - and immediately felt the world around him spin.

He felt a hand grip his shoulder to prevent him from tipping over, and regained his balance.

"I'll… come back tomorrow," Fenris said, getting up from the table.

"Mhm," Anders muttered and propped himself up on the tabletop.

Fenris walked toward the door. He hesitated for a moment before exiting. "Thank you," he said and slipped outside.

Anders frowned at the door for a moment. Then, hoping that nobody else comes tonight, he dragged himself towards his bedroom.


	3. Chapter 3

Anders did get a visit the next morning, but not from the elf he expected.

"Hello? May I come in?" a familiar voice asked as the door opened slightly.

"Merrill? Is something wrong?" he asked with confusion.

"Hm?" she came inside, holding a vegetable-filled basket in one hand. Having looked around and noticing only Anders, she relaxed a bit. "Oh, I'm not hurt or anything, I just… need to talk to you about something."

"About what?" he asked, crossing his arms.

Rather than answer, Merrill shuffled about, tapping her fingers on the basket that she held in her hands.

"Well?" Anders said impatiently. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Do you remember Varania?" she finally asked.

"Who?"

"Fenris' sister? We met her some time ago at the Hanged Man."

"Right. Her." He hardly had a chance to forget.

"She looked scared."

"Did she?"

"Do you think she was forced to do what she did?" Merrill spurted out.

Anders raised his eyebrows. "I- why are you asking _me_ about this?"

"Well, I'm not going to ask Hawke now, and Fenris would just go and kill her right away…"

"_Would go_? You mean -"

"I might kind of know where to find her. More or less," she admitted.

"_Where_?" a voice from the doorway demanded.

Merrill jumped up and whipped around. "Oh! Fenris! You're here!"

"Where is she?" Fenris drawled out.

Merrill took a deep breath. "There's- well, there's a place in the alienage and I could lead you there… probably. But please, think about it first!"

Fenris just glared at her in response.

"I think she might not be the one at fault," Merrill added quietly.

Fenris' expression changed slightly, but he made no reply. For a short while he stood in the entrance - then he turned on his heel and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Merrill turned to Anders with visible confusion. "Is he going to search the entire alienage?"

He just shrugged in response.

He ended up telling Merrill about what happened last night - at least in approximation, since he skipped the part where Justice intervened. When he mentioned that Fenris was supposed to come back today because he hurt his arm, Merrill all but pushed him out of the clinic, instructing him to go and find him. With a deep sigh, he gave in to her insistence and headed out.

He walked all the way to Hightown, then found his way to Fenris' mansion. Steeling himself for the encounter, he knocked on the door - only to be met by silence.

He knocked for the second time. Then again.

He was about to call it a day and make his leave when he heard something from behind the door.

"What?" a voice growled from the inside.

"It's me."

"What for?"

"You do realize that you need that arm fixed, don't you?"

This was met by another prolonged silence. Anders rolled his eyes.

The lock finally clicked and the door came ajar.

"Have you been thinking up ways to make it more sinister? I'd say some cobwebs and blood splatters on the door would work miracles," he commented, walking inside.

"Get this over with," Fenris replied hoarsely.

Anders squinted at him, hardly seeing anything in the dim room. "Did you already manage to get drunk, or does this place normally reek of wine?"

He could only assume that the elf was glaring at him as usual, since no response came.

"So," he looked around, "do you own any, you know, _windows_? I can't see my ow n hands."

"Do you _ever_ stop talking?"

"Do you want that hand healed or not?"

With a huff, Fenris turned around and headed to the next room, followed by Anders. He yanked at the dusty curtain to reveal a small, equally dusty, window, letting in a bit of light into the room.

Finally being able to see anything, Anders looked around his surroundings. He had only been in the mansion once before, when they were raiding its previous inhabitants. Somehow, it seemed to be in an even worse state than it was back then - broken furniture and glass shards were still laying across the floor and dust from the corners could probably make a full carpet. He felt that if he searched well enough, he could find a dead body or two from back then.

"That's the saddest looking window I've ever seen," Anders commented, putting his bag down on the table next to it.

Fenris' lips thinned. He pulled a nearby empty crate to the table, perched himself on it and held out his hurt arm, holding it up with the other one. "Here. Fix it."

Anders had a comeback on the tip of his tongue, but he stopped himself at the last moment. The situation was beginning to feel off for some reason.

The silence was hardly better. "I talked to Merrill," he said as he started to work on the injured arm. It was ignored completely. "She saw Varania while headed to the market. Unless Merrill was completely lost, it shouldn't be hard to find her."

He didn't look up to see Fenris' reaction, but his arm twitched a bit.

"So, you might want to hurry up. Templars have probably noticed her by now. She's hardly subtle."

"Let them have her, then," Fenris hissed.

Anders gripped the arm a little harder, stopping the healing spell and making the elf jump up. "Do _not_."

"Why not?" he growled back.

"If you are going to kill her, just get on it. Maybe she deserves that-"

"_Maybe?_"

"_Probably_! Look, I don't know why she- no, I don't know _what_ she did, exactly."

"Which part of 'sold me into slavery' you don't understand?" Fenris' voice grew louder.

"And do you have a receipt for that?"

Fenris turned to him sharply, looking positively ready to kill. "You -"

"She hardly seemed like the mastermind of this whole mess-"

"It doesn't matter!"

"Then why didn't you go to find her already?!"

"I can't!" he exclaimed. "I don't know what to do with her anymore!"

Anders fell silent, but Fenris, apparently a bit more drunk than he seemed to be, continued, as if talking to himself.

"Do I just go there and kill her? She's the only person who knows who I used to be. _I started remembering her_. And she betrayed me."

Increasingly uncomfortable with the situation, Anders focused back on the healing. Other than a bit of burned skin, the damage was a cracked bone - he just needed to heal the crack and he could be out of here in a few moments.

Still, his thoughts stuck to the unexpected bit of honesty he was given. For a brief moment, the elf sounded not as much angry, as genuinely hurt. Had he not known who he was, he would almost pity him.

"You _could_ try talking to her, you know," he mumbled after a moment, as the last part of the crack sealed itself.

Fenris jolted up, apparently remembering that he was not alone in the room. He stared at the medic for a moment. "You're saying this because she's a _mage_," he said with realization.

"I-"

"Get out."

"I'm not done yet."

"Get _out," _he repeated in a growl, springing to his feet.

"Fine," Anders responded dryly, grabbing his bag. He took out a small jar of healing salve, and tossed them to the elf. "Sober up and do it yourself, then."

Not waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and headed for the exit.

"Rude," he remarked to himself as the door shut behind him. With a sigh, he headed back to the clinic.


End file.
